


Mending Broken Pieces Of The Life I Had Before

by MiaCooper



Series: Unintended Pieces [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, F/M, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8502289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/pseuds/MiaCooper
Summary: Tumblr prompt: “I’ve been undercover for months/years and I know I told you not to wait for me but I’m still in love with you and it’s killing me.”Seeing as I was prodded a few times about writing a sequel to my first AU fic prompt, You Could Be My Unintended… here it is. I'm not sure this is what readers had in mind, but this is what came out of my brain. Sorry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am somewhat tech-savvy, but I really know nothing about the dark web or how IP tracking works except for what Dr Google tells me, so forgive me for anything I got ridiculously wrong. Incidentally, the research I did for this story taught me things I wish I could un-know.
> 
>  **Disclaimer**  
>  Characters are Paramount’s. No infringement intended.
> 
>  **Warning**  
>  There are reference in this story to disturbing topics, but I’ve kept it as non-descriptive as possible.
> 
>  **Gratitudinousness**  
>  To Mary S and Little Obsessions, both of whom beta'ed this for me. I was actually pretty worried about how this would be received. Thank you both for putting my mind at ease.

**Part I**

“Kathryn, wake up.”

A muffled groan was the predictable response. Chakotay placed the steaming cup of coffee on her nightstand and leaned over the bed, brushing the backs of his fingers over his wife’s cheek.

 _My wife_ , he thought. It had been a year since the day he’d arrested her and a month since their wedding, barefoot and laughing on a Bahamian beach. He wondered if he would ever think about her without that swell of joy expanding inside him, like an inflating balloon.

He doubted it.

Kathryn opened one eye a crack and regarded him balefully.

“You’re really not a morning person, are you?” he smirked.

She groaned again, burying her face in the pillow.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Chakotay placed his lips close to her ear and whispered, “I made coffee.”

Kathryn rolled onto her side, propping herself on one elbow. “All right. I guess I’ll let you live another day.”

Chakotay sat on the edge of the bed and handed her the mug, watching as she inhaled the steam, her eyes closing and an expression of bliss crossing her face. “I never get tired of watching you do that.”

She took a deep sip, sighed in pleasure, then opened her eyes. A smile quirked one corner of her mouth as she looked him up and down, taking in the plain T-shirt and fatigues that had replaced his sheriff’s uniform. “I like the new look, Special Agent Chakotay,” she approved, putting down the mug and straightening up. “Are you excited to be going back?”

“Very.” He grinned. “Although I’m a little worried all those fresh recruits are going to show me up on the running track. I’m not as young as when I did my first stint at the Academy.”

“Pfft.” Kathryn raised herself on her knees and put her arms around his shoulders, settling her body against his. “You’ll run rings around them.”

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” Chakotay murmured, pressing his face into her hair.

“I know.” She kissed him, slowly and sweetly. “I’ll miss you. But it’s only three months, and I’ll visit as often as I can. And this is what you want to do.”

“Remind me again why I want this?” Chakotay’s hands had started wandering.

Kathryn laughed, capturing his hands in her own. “Because you regret ever leaving the FBI. Because they asked you to come back, and this is a great opportunity. Because after you’ve finished your refresher training, we’ll be moving into our dream house in San Francisco and living happily ever after.”

“I like the sound of that.” Chakotay pulled her close again, kissing her.

The kiss grew heated, and eventually she pulled back, breathless. “You’ll miss your plane,” she whispered.

“So I’ll catch the next one.” He was nuzzling her neck and pulling the strap of her tank top off her shoulder.

“Oh…” Her head lolled back as his mouth travelled further down.

An alarm shrilled. Kathryn moaned in frustration, gathering her willpower to gently push Chakotay away. “You have to go. The cab will be here any minute. And I need to take a shower and drive to San Fran to meet the lawyers by ten.” With great reluctance, she untangled herself from his arms and slipped off the bed.

Chakotay leaned against the wall and watched her as she selected tailored pants and a blouse from her closet and tossed them on the bed. He never tired of watching her, this woman who’d marched into his life only a year ago and turned it, and him, completely upside down. From the moment she’d stepped up to him during a women’s rights protest, accused him of all manner of offences and kicked a safety barricade into his knees, he’d been enchanted. Chakotay grinned at the memory.

He still couldn’t believe he’d got so lucky: that this smart, funny, beautiful livewire of a woman had actually wanted him, the doofus in the sheriff’s uniform. But wanted him she had, and not only that. She loved him.

What the hell was he thinking, leaving her for three long months?

“I can hear you brooding from here,” Kathryn chided him as she turned from the bureau, her hands full of something pink and lacy. “Stop it. I’ll see you next weekend, and we’ll Skype whenever you can book it in, and I’ll write you. And I’ll be thinking of you all the time.”

She tossed the lingerie on the bed and came up to him, resting her hand on his chest. “We can do this, Chakotay,” she told him softly.

He looked down into her beautiful eyes, memorising their colour and sheen, the depths of emotion he saw in them. “I love you, Kathryn,” he murmured, his hands coming up to cup her face.

“And I love you,” she breathed, raising herself on tiptoe to kiss him.

Outside, a cab honked.

Kathryn sighed and stepped back from him.

“See you on Saturday,” he said. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Fly safely.” She smiled. “And good luck.”

Chakotay bent to kiss her one last time, then shouldered his bag and left, trying not to look back.

=/\=

“I think I’ve found a job,” Kathryn told him excitedly over Skype the following week, when Chakotay finally managed to book an hour on the library wifi.

They’d spent a delirious weekend together in a tiny bed-and-breakfast in Arlington, Virginia – Kathryn had taken the red-eye from San Francisco and arrived jittery from too much coffee and not enough sleep – barely leaving their bed, in spite of her professed plans to visit the memorials and walk along the Potomac. They’d both been exhausted, Chakotay from punishing hours of exercise and study, Kathryn from packing up their house in Half Moon Bay and the frequent driving between there and their new place in Bernal Heights, a split-level, three-bedroom weatherboard that she’d used her inheritance to buy. She’d shown him photos of the living room she’d painted sea-blue and the plans she had for the deck out the back, and they’d ordered room service and talked about the future and made love whenever the need took them.

“Tell me,” Chakotay encouraged, and she told him about her chance meeting with Professor Tuvok, her old college mentor, and his offer of a position managing the genetics lab at the state university. There would be some teaching involved as well as administration, and she’d get to conduct her own research.

“I’ll be getting back to pure science,” she told him enthusiastically. “I’ll miss teaching high-school kids, and I’ll be expected to put in long hours. But this is what I’ve always wanted to do.”

“I’m so happy for you.” He reached out to touch the screen where her image appeared, smiling as she responded by raising her own hand to his. “When do you start?”

Her smile dimmed a little. “Well, there’s the rub. I’ll start next Monday, and for the first couple of months I’ll be expected to work most Saturdays.”

“You won’t be able to come over here.” He couldn’t hide it: the despair at the idea of not being with her, holding her, until his training had finished and he started his posting at the Golden Gate office.

She bit her lip. “I’ll be able to get away at least once. Maybe twice. And it’s only another eleven weeks until we’ll be back together.”

 _Too long_ , he thought but didn’t say. Instead he gave her a reassuring smile. “It’ll be here before we know it.”

“It will,” she said softly. “And I’ll try to fly there in about a month.”

She kissed her fingers and pressed them to the screen just as the timer on the library computer signalled that his allotted time was up.

“Sleep well, Kathryn,” he said, returning the kiss, and she signed off.

=/\=

 _I met our next-door neighbours yesterday,_ Chakotay read. _They’re a couple around our age – Deanna and Will – and they have a gorgeous one year old son who never stops laughing. We walked down to Mission Street with him in the buggy and had lunch at a little pub. I can’t wait for you to meet them._

“Hey.”

Chakotay glanced up, folding Kathryn’s letter carefully. “Hey, Ben. What’s up?”

His roommate leaned in the doorway. “I’m heading over to the gym. Want to tag along? I need to work off some energy and I prefer a moving target.”

“Why not?” Chakotay shrugged, unfolding himself from his position, sprawled on the bunk. “If you think you can take me,” he added, grinning.

“Great. Meet you there in ten.”

Ben disappeared, and Chakotay stowed Kathryn’s letter in the lockable drawer in his bureau. Not for the first time, he wished the Academy let trainees bring in personal computers; Skyping Kathryn once a week when he could book time in the library really wasn’t anywhere near enough contact with her. He re-read her letters several times a day. She’d bought a Polaroid camera and she always tucked a couple of photos inside the envelopes; this one contained a picture of the view from the balcony of their new house, and a selfie of Kathryn sitting at the breakfast table sporting bedhead and an old sweatshirt of Chakotay’s, a mug of coffee beside her.

He brushed his thumb over the picture and tucked it away on top of her letter, then threw on gym shorts and headed over to join Ben in the boxing ring.

“Your mind is not on the job, Chief,” Ben informed him after his third successful knock-down in fifteen minutes; usually, he and Chakotay were pretty evenly matched in size, speed and skill. “Want to tell me about it?”

Chakotay pulled off his gloves and dropped onto the bench. “You’re married, right?”

“I was.” Ben’s expression stayed even. “Jennifer was killed in the Stockholm terrorist attack a few years back.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t believe I didn’t know that.”

Ben shrugged, sitting next to him. “It’s part of the reason I signed up for the FBI. My son Jake was injured in the same attack. I wanted to be part of preventing that kind of thing.”

“How old is Jake?”

“Fifteen,” Ben answered. “He’s living with my father in New Orleans while I’m here. I’ve requested a posting in Louisiana when we graduate.” He turned to Chakotay. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been having doubts about whether I’m doing the right thing, being here,” Chakotay admitted.

“Let me guess: you miss that pretty little wife of yours.”

“Is it that obvious?” He couldn’t help smiling.

“Pretty much,” Ben grinned.

“We’d planned for her to fly here every couple of weeks,” Chakotay went on. “But now she has this new job and it’s looking like next weekend is the only time she’ll be able to get away. I won’t see her for another six weeks after that.”

“But then you’ll graduate,” Ben reminded him, “and you’ll be together all the time.”

“It’s not only that,” Chakotay admitted grudgingly. “We Skyped last night and the subject of kids came up.”

“And?”

“And she wants to concentrate on her career for the foreseeable future.”

“But you want to get on with being a dad,” Ben surmised.

“Very much so.” Chakotay leaned back against the wall. “I told her I’m okay with waiting a few years, but the way she was talking, I’m not sure she wants to have kids at all. It’s the first thing we’ve had a major disagreement about and it’s driving me crazy that we can’t sit down and resolve it face to face.”

He thought about that conversation. They’d talked a little about children before they were married, and he’d come away with the assumption that Kathryn wanted them as much as he did; emboldened by that, and by her affectionate description of the neighbours’ little boy in her latest letter, he’d suggested to her over Skype last night that they start trying for a baby as soon as he returned to San Francisco. Her reaction hadn’t been at all the one he’d expected – her face had fallen, she’d mumbled something about talking it over when they were back together, and when he pressed her, she’d said that she wanted to concentrate on her career.

Chakotay knew he loved her enough to accede to her wishes – whatever they might be. But he also knew that if he never had children, there would always be a part of him that felt empty.

“I just need to be with her,” he said, half to himself.

Ben patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Chief. You’ll work it out.”

=/\=

“Don’t,” Kathryn had said through tight lips as she slammed the trunk of the rental car, overnight bag in hand. “I don’t want you to see me off. In fact, I think it’s best if you don’t call me for a few days. I need some time.”

Then she’d shouldered the bag and disappeared into the departures lounge without so much as glancing back at him.

The argument had been horrific, no less for its viciousness than for its unexpectedness. Chakotay was still reeling. He couldn’t believe they’d said such venomous things to each other.

She hadn’t wanted to talk about having a family. He should have paid attention to her, he thought now; she’d wanted to concentrate on being with him in the present, but he’d kept pushing her, like picking at a half-healed scab. Eventually her patience with him had given out and she’d accused him of dismissing her career aspirations, of only caring about what he wanted. He’d responded that she hadn’t been honest with him on the subject before they married. Eyes filling with tears she refused to shed, she’d retorted that if he only wanted a breeding machine, he should have followed the lead of her previous fiancé and chosen himself a young blonde bimbo. Then she’d packed her things in silence and gone to wait in the passenger seat until he gave in and drove her back to the airport, a whole day early.

“You’re an idiot,” Ben said frankly when Chakotay explained why he’d returned to Quantico a day ahead of schedule.

He couldn’t disagree.

Ignoring Kathryn’s request, he’d tried to call her every half hour since he calculated her plane had landed in San Francisco, but despite leaving ever more frantic and apologetic voicemails, she hadn’t called him back. When he logged into Skype at his allotted time on Monday night, her status was set to ‘offline’. It was Tuesday evening before she finally replied to one of his many emails.

 _I’m sorry_ , she wrote. _I overreacted. I love you. Forgive me?_

Chakotay cajoled another trainee into giving up his Skype hour and almost cried when Kathryn’s tense, beautiful face appeared on screen.

“You look tired,” he told her, feeling awful, knowing it was his fault.

“I haven’t slept much,” she admitted. “And I’m deep into an experiment at the moment. We’re working very long hours.”

“I haven’t helped,” he sighed. “Kathryn, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

Her eyes softened immediately. “And I shouldn’t have been such a bitch, storming off like that.”

“I miss you.” He reached out to touch the screen, and she mirrored the gesture, smiling at last.

“We’ll talk about it when you come home,” she said softly. “It’s only six weeks away. We’re halfway there.”

“Are you sure you can’t come here again?”

She bit her lip. “I can’t, Chakotay. There’s so much work still to do on the house, and my job –”

“I understand,” he said quickly. “I just can’t stand knowing I wasted last weekend and now I won’t get to touch you for six weeks.”

“Well…” She blushed. “Are you alone?”

He glanced around; the booth he sat in was in a corner of the library, and the nearest person was another student browsing the stacks. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“In that case…” Kathryn leaned closer to the screen. Her hand moved to the top button on her blouse and flipped it open. “I know it’s not exactly the same,” she murmured, opening another button, “but I want you to touch me.”

She slipped the shirt from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

“Kathryn, what are you doing?” he whispered.

In answer, she unclipped her bra and tossed it away.

“Touch me,” she repeated, her smile curling.

Chakotay reached out and traced the lines of her body on the screen. “God, I want you,” he murmured.

The timer beside him beeped and he made a sound of frustration. On screen, Kathryn was pulling her blouse back on, realising the next trainee in line for the computer would be getting an eyeful otherwise.

“Six weeks,” she promised him, kissing her fingers and pressing them to the screen.

“Six weeks.”

Chakotay hoped he could last that long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II**

Chakotay buried his head in his hands and tried to control his rebellious stomach. He’d been sifting through images both perverse and desperately sad for hours now, and he really wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

A sympathetic hand clamped down on his shoulder and he looked up into the grave face of Agent Kurt Bendera, his supervisor on the Violent Crimes Against Children taskforce. “Take a break, Chakotay,” Bendera advised.

Chakotay pushed back from his computer. “It’s only going to get worse, isn’t it?”

Bendera hesitated, then jerked his head toward the door. “Come on into my office.”

Chakotay followed him in and slumped into the chair on the opposite side of Bendera’s desk. “I understand how important this investigation is,” he said before his boss could speak. “I just can’t believe how prevalent these animals are. Every time the Bureau shuts down one website or chat board, another one springs up in its place. We’re not even making a dent. How do you stand it?”

“I don’t,” Bendera answered simply. “It makes me sick to my stomach every single day. That’s why I keep going. Every website we shut down is one more deterrent, one more victory. Never, ever think you’re not making a difference here, Chakotay, because you are.”

Chakotay mustered up a half-smile.

“Listen,” Bendera leaned his elbows on his desk, fingers locked together, “you’ve only been on the taskforce for a month. I’m not saying it gets easier, but you can find ways of compartmentalising it. Try to leave work at the office. When you walk out of this building, you need to shrug it off, okay?”

“I’m not doing too well at that part,” Chakotay admitted. “My wife is … concerned.”

Bendera sighed. “The truth is, the Bureau is a tough job, and this kind of work is some of the toughest. If you want your marriage to last, you can’t take it home with you. I should know,” he said ruefully.

“So what can I do?” Chakotay asked helplessly.

“I recommend you speak to one of the Bureau counsellors on a regular basis. And find healthy ways of working out your stress. What do you normally do?”

“I box. I run. Sometimes I meditate.”

“Good. Keep up with those.” Bendera stood. “Take the rest of the day off. Go spend some time with your wife. Buy her some flowers and take her somewhere nice for dinner.”

“Thanks, Kurt.” Chakotay got to his feet, feeling better at the thought of seeing Kathryn. She’d be at her lab; if he left now, he might be able to catch her before she left campus.

Locking down his computer, he pulled on his jacket and left the building, his steps a little lighter.

=/\=

“Dr Janeway?”

At her assistant’s gentle voice, Kathryn glanced up from the computer simulation she was running on her latest genome sequence. “What is it, Tal?”

“You have a visitor.” Tal’s pretty, smiling face disappeared around the doorway.

_Probably the chem lab supervisor again_ , Kathryn thought in annoyance. Dr Harren was arrogant, rude and irritating, but ever since she’d inadvertently impressed him at one of the campus staff functions, he’d taken to dropping in on her unannounced, usually when she was in the middle of something engrossing.

Sighing, she switched on her screensaver – Tal was a sweetheart, but the last time Kathryn had wandered off and left her computer unlocked, her assistant had accidentally deleted several hundred megabytes of critical data while trying to run an antivirus scan. She slipped off the furry boots she’d taken to wearing in the chilly lab in favour of a battered pair of Converse, and followed Tal into the reception area.

Spying a pair of long legs in gabardine pants topped by an enormous bouquet of irises and lilies, Kathryn broke into a wide, delighted smile. “Chakotay! What are you doing here?”

“Do I need a reason to come visit my beautiful wife?” Chakotay leaned to one side so he could see her around the bouquet.

“Of course not.” She took the flowers, leaning up to kiss him. “These are gorgeous, Chakotay. What did I do to deserve them?”

“So many things,” he answered, pulling her close.

Kathryn handed the flowers to Tal and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Did you get an early mark for being a good boy?”

“Something like that. Are you busy?”

“For you? Never.”

“Then let’s go.”

She took his hand. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He grinned at her.

“Chakotay…” She tried to glare at him and found she couldn’t. “At least tell me if I need to change.”

“You’re perfect.” He cupped her face briefly, then took the coat and bag Tal was holding out, nodding his thanks. “Let’s go.”

=/\=

He’d taken her to Ocean Beach. It was cold and windy and as they walked along the sand it had started to rain, but they’d huddled under the Cupid’s arrow sculpture and shared sandwiches and coffee, and they’d talked and laughed and kissed until Kathryn announced that she could no longer feel her fingers. Then they’d driven home and he’d pulled her into a hot shower and made love to her up against the tiled wall, and they’d fallen into bed and made love again.

It was the last time he could remember things being completely easy between them.

Chakotay rubbed the headache forming at the back of his neck and tried to focus on his computer screen. He was onto something, he was sure – he’d worked his way into a number of forums on the dark web, and he was noticing a pattern that seemed to indicate there were several users engaged not only in distributing exploitative material, but also in creating and collecting it. They used different handles on the various forums and gave very little away, but he thought he’d started to work out their code-speak.

Agent Bendera agreed, and had allocated another two agents to work with Chakotay on identifying the suspects. Hogan and Henley were cybercrime specialists who had a couple of years’ experience apiece on the taskforce. Hogan had been undercover a few years back on a weapons-smuggling case, and it was he who suggested that Chakotay would have more success in busting the paedophile ring if he went covert.

“No,” Chakotay said flatly when Bendera made the request official. His boss had been careful to outline exactly what the covert operation would entail: understanding the mindset of his targets, taking on the life they led, _becoming_ like them, in many ways. Leaving the existence he knew now, for as long as it took.

Leaving Kathryn.

“I’m not asking idly,” Bendera told him. “We’ve hit a wall here. We know kids are being abducted and their images are ending up online. We know the online identities of the perps. What we don’t have yet is their real identities or even enough evidence to conduct a search-and-seize operation. We only have best guesses and speculation, and we need more.”

He didn’t lay on a guilt trip. He didn’t tell Chakotay to _think of the children_.

He didn’t have to. Chakotay found he couldn’t think of anything else.

=/\=

“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about a few months ago,” Kathryn said quietly, on a rainy Sunday afternoon in November.

She was curled up on the couch in leggings and a cable-knit sweater that almost swallowed her, the coffee table littered with reference papers and empty mugs. A fire crackled in the small hearth and Nina Simone crooned quietly in the background.

Chakotay sat at the kitchen table staring at his laptop. He’d been deep-diving into the chatrooms lately and had taken on an identity that the suspected ringleaders were beginning to trust. He knew it was taking its toll on him. He’d felt himself drawing away from Kathryn these past weeks, had sensed her watching him, unsure how to reach him through the dark and sullen mood that seemed to weigh on his shoulders.

He was short-tempered, eating and sleeping less and drinking more, and they seemed to spend so much less time together lately. They’d gone from tearing each other’s clothes off on a daily basis to making love barely once a week. She was busy and he was withdrawn, and the more withdrawn he became, the busier she seemed to be.

He glanced up from the computer and found her watching him. She looked nervous, but her face was soft and open.

“What’s that?” he asked.

She bit her lip and uncurled herself from the sofa, walking over to crouch beside his chair. Quickly, he shut the screen on his laptop. She noticed, but didn’t mention it.

“You asked me a question a few months ago,” she said, taking his hand between hers, “about when we could start trying for a family. I know I didn’t react well at the time. But I’ve had some time to think about it,” she took a deep breath, “and I want to have children with you, Chakotay. I want it.”

His mouth went dry. An image flashed into his mind – the boy whose terrified eyes he’d just been looking into on his computer screen. And then another, and a little girl, and –

He tried to swallow. “Kathryn, I –”

_A child_ , he thought. _Kathryn’s child_. Maybe a little blue-eyed girl, like the one whose tearstained face was filling his mind’s eye right at that moment. A child he’d be responsible for, a child he would have to protect, a child who’d be vulnerable –

Chakotay stumbled up out of his chair, his hands jerking out from hers. “I can’t,” he said starkly.

“What?” She was still crouched by the chair, gripping the seat for balance.

“I don’t want children,” he said desperately. “I was wrong.”

“Chakotay –” She stood slowly, staring at him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I was wrong. I’ve changed my mind.” He couldn’t look at her.

She was silent for a long moment.

“You don’t want children,” she repeated slowly. “At all? Or,” he could hear her swallow, “you don’t want them with me?”

He shook his head, not knowing which question he was answering.

Her voice was so quiet he barely heard her. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Of course I do,” he almost shouted. “This isn’t about you, Kathryn.”

“Then what is it about?” she cried. “What am I supposed to think? You’re angry all the time, and secretive, and you barely touch me anymore, and now _this?_ I can’t stand it, Chakotay!”

Her voice wavered on the last sentence, and before he knew what he was doing he was across the room and pulling her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair and clutched her to him so tightly she gasped. “I love you,” he said fiercely. “Don’t ever doubt it.”

“Okay,” she managed, her hand stroking soothingly over his back. “Okay.”

=/\=

“Mrs Carey, this is Agent Chakotay.”

The woman perched on the edge of the overstuffed armchair in the family interview room looked up as Chakotay entered. She was pale, her face bare of makeup, and he thought she looked as though she hadn’t slept in days. She barely acknowledged him, her gaze immediately dropping to the teacup she held in her trembling hands.

Agent Bendera sat opposite her, motioning Chakotay to another chair, and bent slightly toward her across the coffee table. “Thank you for coming in, Mrs Carey,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. “I know this is very difficult, but anything you can tell us could help us find Josh. Anything you can think of – it doesn’t matter how insignificant it seems.”

Anne Carey pressed her lips together. “He was wearing a blue sweater. I knitted it for him for his seventh birthday. He had a fake Sailor Jerry tattoo on his left arm and a graze on his knee where he fell off his bike. He – he was carrying his school bag…” She faltered, her face crumpling. “I’ve already told all this to the police. Please, he’s been missing for two days now. Please find him.”

“We’re doing everything we can,” Bendera assured her, briefly touching her hand. “Mrs Carey, are you aware of him having contact with anyone out of the ordinary recently? Someone he might have met through sports maybe, or on his way home from school?”

She was shaking her head, then abruptly stopped. “I sent him to the corner store for milk two nights before he disappeared. When he came home, he told me a woman had talked to him in the store and bought him a comic he’d been looking at. I didn’t think twice about it…” Her eyes filled with tears. “Did she take him? What kind of woman would do that?”

“Did he give you a description of this woman?”

“I can’t remember… I think he said she had reddish hair. I remember he said he didn’t like the way she smiled. I – I wasn’t paying much attention. The baby was crying.” She buried her face in her hands.

“It’s all right, Mrs Carey.” Bendera flicked a glance at Chakotay. “Agent Chakotay will be working on the investigation into your son’s disappearance. We’ll do everything we can to find him, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Reddish-haired woman,” Bendera remarked when he’d shown Mrs Carey out. “Could be our perp.”

Chakotay sighed. They’d been tracking the woman known on several forums as ‘Seska’ for weeks now. Henley had made her first successful IP trace – something must have briefly glitched with the software Seska used to spoof her IP address as she was posting in one of the chatrooms, and they’d traced her location to an apartment building on Myrtle Street in the Tenderloin district, but couldn’t narrow it down to a specific address. A team had been working on cataloguing all the CCTV and traffic surveillance cameras in that area, and a week ago they’d had a lucky break: a known offender had been caught on camera walking out of a coffee shop opposite the apartment building, with a woman of medium height and athletic build, who had long reddish-brown hair. They hadn’t yet managed to get a clear enough shot of her face to identify her, but she’d popped up again two days later outside the house of another suspect.

Chakotay was familiar enough now with the codespeak used on the forums to have figured out that Seska and another unidentified accomplice were responsible for kidnapping a number of children across San Francisco and San Jose over the past few years. Images and video of those children had subsequently appeared on the dark web. Given the information they now had, Chakotay was certain Joshua Carey’s images would start to be shared across the chatrooms in the near future, unless they could first find Seska, and get Josh back safely.

He knew what he had to do.

He – or rather, his perverted online personality – had finally been invited to a meet-up. He was aware he would only be meeting acolytes, not ring-leaders, but it was a place to start.

He also knew that paranoia was a way of life for these people, and if he went ahead with the meeting, he’d better be certain they didn’t figure out his real identity.

The only way to be sure was to go undercover.

=/\=

“You’re late.”

Kathryn watched him as he tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and carefully laid his laptop on the kitchen table. _He looks beaten_ , she thought. _I can’t remember the last time he smiled_.

“Late for what?” Chakotay barely spared her a glance.

She pushed off from the kitchen bench she’d been leaning against and made her way toward him. “We were supposed to be at the Four Seasons half an hour ago.”

“The Four Seasons?” He stopped, looking at her properly, taking in her black silk dress, high heels and the way her hair curved smoothly over her shoulder. “Shit,” he muttered. “The fundraiser.”

“Right.” Her mouth compressed into a thin line. “I’ve called Tuvok and made an excuse about car trouble. If you hurry, we can be there before they serve the main course.”

“Kathryn…” Chakotay wiped a hand over his face and collapsed into a chair. “I have a lot of work to do tonight. Do you mind if I beg off?”

She was silent for so long he looked up and realised she was staring at him, her body rigid, her face set in stone.

“Sure, Chakotay,” she said, her voice betraying no emotion. “Do whatever you want.”

She moved then, picking up her coat and purse, her heels clicking on the timber floors. “Don’t wait up,” she shot over her shoulder as she wrenched the door open.

He leaned his head into his hands. The silent room echoed with her absence.

She came home just after midnight and found him asleep at the kitchen table, slumped over his laptop, an open bottle of Scotch beside him.

“Chakotay.”

He jerked awake and peered up at her, bleary-eyed. She could see he was trying to muster a smile. “How was your night?”

“Lonely.”

At that, he sat upright, his face softening, and reached for her hand. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Kathryn let him take her hand and pull her close. He rested his head against her breasts, his arms wrapped tightly around her. She hesitated, then lifted a hand to his hair, tangling her fingers in it gently.

“I love you,” he mumbled. She felt him kiss her skin where the scooped neckline of her dress left it bare, then trace his lips upward to her collarbone. He pulled her onto his lap, his mouth moving over her throat, nipping gently along the line of her jaw. She felt his hands moving on her body and her breathing started to quicken.

“Come to bed,” he whispered in her ear.

She bit her lip. She was hurt, and they needed to talk, but he felt so good pressed against her and she missed him so much. Maybe it would be better to talk in the morning, when their heads were clear.

He captured her lips with his own and she softened against him with a sigh. He stood up, wrapping her legs around his hips, and carried her into the bedroom. He took his time undressing her, touching and kissing every part of her until she lay breathless under him, desperate for him to fill her. He made love to her tenderly, calling on all his skill and control to please her, bringing her to her peak several times before he finally let go. Afterwards he held her close, her head on his chest, and she thought that maybe they’d be okay after all.

When she woke, the bed was cold and the house empty.

=/\=

Joshua Carey’s pinched and dazed face appeared on the dark web the following morning.

Agent Bendera called Chakotay and his team into the office. “As unacceptable as this situation is,” he told them, “it has produced a lead. See there, in the background?” He pointed to an enlarged still photo of Josh. Behind the boy’s head, a sculpture sat on a small table.

Henley squinted at it. “Is that a McClure?”

“It is,” confirmed Bendera. “One of a kind.”

“I’ve seen it before,” Chakotay realised. “One of the forum members posted a picture with this in the background.”

“Right.” Bendera tapped the photograph again. “Hogan, Henley - trace the gallery or dealer that sold this statue. I’ve already obtained approval to commence visual surveillance of the suspect’s residence once he – or she – has been identified.”

“It’s not going to be enough,” Chakotay said abruptly. “We won’t get to Josh Carey in time.”

“No,” Bendera said quietly, “we probably won’t. Not without an arrest, and for that we need more intel. And we have no way of knowing if the location where this picture was taken will lead us to the key members of this operation. We need someone on the inside.”

Chakotay closed his eyes briefly.

“I’ll do it.”

Bendera levelled a stare at him. “Hogan, Henley, would you give us the room please.”

They filed out.

“Are you sure about this, Chakotay? You could be under for months. Possibly longer.”

“Whatever it takes.”

“And what about Kathryn?”

“How much can I tell her?”

“Tell her that you’re undercover. Tell her she can contact me any time if she needs to get in touch with you or wants a status update.” Bendera leaned in, catching Chakotay’s eye. “Tell her you’re doing something good for people who can’t save themselves.”

=/\=

She was trembling.

“So what you’re telling me,” she managed, her voice shaking, “is that you don’t want to spend time with me anymore, you don’t want children with me, and now you’re going undercover and you can’t even tell me why or for how long?”

Chakotay said nothing. This was even worse than he’d predicted.

“Why did you marry me, Chakotay?” she burst out, stepping up close to him and searching his eyes. “Wasn’t it enough that I’d lost my job and been dumped by my fiancé when we met? Did you just want to pick up the pieces of me so you could break them apart again?” Her breath hitched in her throat. “I thought you loved me. I thought we’d be perfect together.”

“We are,” he said urgently. “I do.”

“Then _why are you doing this to us?_ ” she burst out, tearing away from him. “I’ve tried to be understanding. I told myself you’d changed because of the job, but that the real you was still in there somewhere. But now you’re only the job. You don’t even _see_ me anymore.”

“I have to do this,” he pleaded with her. “I have an obligation. It’s my duty.”

Kathryn straightened her shoulders. “I understand that,” she said, quietly. “But I need to know if there’s anything to hope for. When this job is over, will you leave the Bureau? Will you come back to me?”

He swallowed hard. “It’s my duty,” he said again, his voice low. “What I’m doing is important, Kathryn. These people need me.”

“ _I_ need you!” She turned to face him again and he realised her face was wet. “I love you, Chakotay. I always will. But I can’t live like this anymore.”

“So what are you saying?” he asked around the fist that clenched his heart.

“I’m saying you need to choose. Either you stay with me or you let me go.”

He could barely speak. “I don’t want to let you go, Kathryn.”

She stepped toward him and he wanted to cry at the hope in her eyes. “Then what –”

Chakotay held up his hand. “But I have to do this. You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

Slowly, the light died out of her eyes. “I see.”

“So,” he said, almost choking on the words, “it’s probably best for you if you don’t wait for me.”

“You’re letting me go.”

“If that’s what you need.”

Her eyes were dry now. “I thought we’d make it,” she said dully. “I thought we were forever.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She nodded. “So am I.”

“I’ll leave tonight.”

“I think that would be best.”

He forced himself to walk away from her, into their bedroom. He pulled an overnight bag from the closet and threw a few things into it. He glanced at their wedding photo, hanging on the wall above the bed, and thought about how happy he’d been that day and how he’d made his wife so very unhappy since. He thought that perhaps ending it now, less than a year later, was the kindest thing he could do for her.

He walked back into the living room and found her huddled on the couch, nursing a glass of wine. She stood up to face him.

“I’ll be at the Mystic Hotel for the next couple of nights,” he said awkwardly. “After that, if you need to get in touch with me, call Agent Bendera.”

She nodded, not speaking.

“I love you, Kathryn,” he said softly. “I’ll always love you.”

He watched her mouth tremble and her eyes fill with tears, saw the effort it cost her to fight them back.

“Goodbye, Chakotay,” she answered.

By the time he turned for the door, she had already left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part III**

As soon as the last student had filed out of her classroom, Kathryn dropped into her desk chair and gave in to the urge to bury her face in her folded arms.

She was so tired, and upping her caffeine intake wasn’t helping. She wondered briefly if she should take Dr Zimmerman up on his offer to prescribe a mild sedative. A good night’s sleep or two might take the edge off this constant, desperate exhaustion she’d felt ever since Chakotay walked out of her life.

It was impossible to believe that had been almost four months ago when the pain was as fresh as yesterday.

There had been so many bad days since. The day she’d filed the divorce papers; the day they’d been delivered to her, counter-signed. The day she’d quit her job at the genetics lab. The day she’d moved back to Indiana. The day she’d leased out their house – she couldn’t quite bring herself to sell it. The day that should have been their first wedding anniversary.

She was grateful that her mother had received her with open arms and that her sister had demonstrated a sensitivity she was sure Phoebe’d never had when they were kids. She was grateful for her new job, teaching science to high school kids, even though it felt like a major backward step. She was grateful for Delta, the Samoyed-mix puppy Phoebe had insisted she take home after an ill-advised trip to the local shelter.

“Kathryn? Are you all right?”

She jerked upright, wiping at her face before turning to her questioner. “Oh, Jaffen. I’m fine.”

The English teacher’s kind eyes clearly communicated his disbelief. “Mind if I sit down?”

“I was just leaving…”

“How about a cup of coffee?” he said firmly. “I’m buying.”

She mustered up a weak smile. “You’re going to badger me until I give in, aren’t you?”

“I’m tenacious.”

“All right.” Kathryn’s smile turned genuine. “Since you’re buying.”

She was grateful for friends, like Jaffen.

She collected her jacket and bag and took Jaffen’s offered arm. “Where to, boss?”

“I know a place,” he answered. “Best coffee in town. Where’s your car?”

“I don’t have one,” she admitted. “My mother’s place is only a few miles from school. I usually walk here.”

“Then I’ll drive you.”

She hadn’t expected the ‘best coffee in town’ to be served from the Miele machine in Jaffen’s kitchen.

Kathryn was uncomfortable at first. But Jaffen kept up a constant stream of patter from the moment he produced a bag of fresh beans for the grinder to the moment he ushered her into his living room and handed her an amaretto cookie and a cup of the most fragrant coffee she’d experienced since she left San Francisco. They sat in silence while they each inhaled the steam and took a first reverent sip, and Kathryn let out a peal of unexpected laughter, realising she’d met a fellow caffeine addict.

After that, conversation was easy.

She didn’t tell him much about Chakotay; only that she was recently divorced after a humiliatingly brief marriage and still coming to terms with it. She didn’t tell him that she rarely slept and could barely eat. She didn’t tell him she was still so in love with her ex-husband that it hurt to breathe when she thought about it. She didn’t tell him that she felt like a failure, or that she couldn’t imagine ever getting over it.

Mostly, they talked about their families, pets, previous jobs. Jaffen told her about his ex-wife and daughter who’d moved back to Qatar after his divorce – “so you see, Kathryn, you aren’t the only one unlucky in love”. She sensed the regret he tried to hide under his smile, and reached out to touch his arm in sympathy.

It wasn’t until Kathryn’s cellphone rang – it was her mother, wondering if she was ever coming home for dinner - that she realised she’d been there for hours. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” she told her mother. “I’m at a friend’s place.”

She noticed Jaffen miming eating with a questioning look on his face.

“I think I’ve been invited to stay for a meal,” she interpreted, and her mother, overjoyed that Kathryn was developing a social life, implored her to stay right where she was.

At eleven o’clock, Kathryn refused Jaffen’s offer of a ride home – they’d shared a bottle or two of wine – and called a cab, surprised to realise she’d actually enjoyed herself. Jaffen walked her to the door.

“Thank you for cheering me up,” she said, and leaned up to peck him on the cheek.

She was surprised when he blushed. “You’ve cheered me up as well, Kathryn. I’d like to do this again sometime.”

“Me, too,” she surprised herself by saying.

“Could I take you out for dinner?”

Kathryn hesitated. “Are you asking me as a friend, or would this be a date?”

“I’d prefer the latter,” he admitted, “but if you only want a friend, then that’s what I’ll be.”

She bit her lip.

_Chakotay isn’t coming back_ , she told herself. _He chose the job over me_.

“All right,” she said, lifting her chin. “It’s a date.”

=/\=

It took over three months for Chakotay to graduate from hanger-on to part of the inner circle. Three months of subsuming himself in the sad, sick and desperate life of a ‘child-lover’, as the chatroom inhabitants referred to themselves. Three months of returning to his rented apartment on Geary Street each night and vomiting up the bile he’d accumulated during the day. Three months of missing Kathryn so desperately he actually thought, on a number of occasions, about drinking himself to death.

He hadn’t realised that in taking on this role, in trying to be a hero, he would actually come to hate himself.

It wasn’t until he was finally introduced to Seska that the pieces started to click into place, and he began to drag himself out of his self-induced loathing.

Seska was slippery; even Michael Jonas, the owner of the house where Chakotay finally met her, didn’t know her real identity. But Jonas had grown to trust Chakotay over the past several weeks. “She’s the one who finds the kids,” he whispered to Chakotay as Seska plugged a thumb drive into his computer. “Suder makes the videos. That’s him there.” He twitched a finger in the direction of Seska’s dark-eyed companion.

An image of Joshua Carey appeared on screen. Chakotay’s fists clenched at his sides.

“Ten thousand,” Seska stated, glancing over her shoulder at Jonas. “Cash payment, right now, or I take this elsewhere. And believe me, you don’t want to miss this.”

“Here,” Jonas said quickly, handing her a plain envelope stuffed with bills.

“Pleasure doing business,” Seska said casually as she shoved the envelope into her purse. “Have fun, boys.”

She sashayed out, followed by Suder. The front door closed behind them.

Chakotay thought fast. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hall.” Jonas waved a hand, already engrossed in loading up Seska’s video.

“Thanks.” Chakotay ambled casually along the hall. As soon as he was out of Jonas’ line of sight, he pulled out his phone and found the number he had stored for Agent Bendera under a fake name.

_Grandma made it after all_ , he typed as fast as he could. _Can you pick her up? Take the Sienna. She’s wearing blue_.

_On my way_ , came the immediate reply.

Within moments, he knew, Henley would triangulate his phone signal, extrapolate his location and begin an intensive sweep of all traffic and CCTV cameras in the area, looking for a blue Toyota Sienna. When she’d picked it up, she’d dispatch covert units to follow the car. If they’d scrambled in time they’d be able to trace Seska to wherever she was going.

With any luck, that would be the place where Josh Carey was being held. He just hoped the boy would someday be able to recover from everything he’d suffered over the past few months.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he ducked into the bathroom, ran the water for a few seconds and made his way back down the hall.

Jonas’ pale blue eyes were fixed on whatever atrocity he was viewing onscreen. “Come look at this,” he invited Chakotay.

“Sorry, Mike, I have to get going.”

“Your loss,” Jonas smirked.

Chakotay let himself out of the house, got into his nondescript car and drove back to his Geary Street apartment. He showered off the stink of the day, brewed a pot of coffee and sat at his kitchen table, waiting for word from Bendera and thinking about Kathryn.

Three months.

Was she still angry with him? If they could close down the investigation today, take Seska and Jonas into custody, find the missing kids… could he convince her to take him back? Or had he hurt her so badly there was no chance for them anymore?

His cellphone beeped.

_Grandma picked up safe and sound_ , he read. _Nobody else at the party. Bringing her home now. Can’t wait to hear her news_.

So they’d tailed Seska somewhere, arrested her and were bringing her in… but there was no sign of Josh Carey or any of the other missing children. Chakotay buried his head in his hands.

Unless Seska talked, this was far from over, and his hopes of being with Kathryn again were slipping further and further away.

=/\=

They’d been on a couple of dates – dinner at a small local Italian, and a picnic in the park one sunny Saturday – and Kathryn found she was enjoying Jaffen’s company more and more. He’d taken to leaving little gifts in the top drawer of her classroom desk – a flower, a handmade chocolate – just small things to let her know he was thinking of her. He was wooing her, she realised, in the traditional way.

As her last relationship had begun with her arrest and a shared meal in a holding cell, she decided this made a refreshing change and she was going to relax and enjoy it.

On their third date, Jaffen kissed her.

It was a gentle, closed-mouth kiss, and he pulled back before she could decide what to do about it. She touched her lips as she closed the door behind him and wondered if she’d felt anything.

She thought about the first time Chakotay had kissed her, the way he’d stolen her breath, the way she’d never wanted it to end, and had to clench her fists against the ache in her heart. _Over_ , she reminded herself. _Forget him. Move on_.

For their fourth date, Jaffen invited her to his place for dinner.

She knew where this was heading, and she dressed with every intention of throwing herself into it. She wore new lacy underwear beneath her wraparound dress, left her hair down, and took a bottle of wine.

The candles and soft music told her she’d been right.

She could barely eat, despite knowing he’d gone to some trouble to prepare her favourites – poached salmon, a fresh salad and crusty bread. She found herself gulping her wine, her knee bouncing nervously under the table, wondering when they were going to get to the main act.

Jaffen asked if she’d like dessert, and she declined. He offered coffee, and she suggested they take it into the living room.

They sat close together on the couch and sipped their coffee. Kathryn tried to calm her pounding heart, wondering why she felt less like she was about to take a new lover and more like she was steeling herself for something terrifying. She gulped her coffee, quickly shoved her cup on the table before the trembling of her hands could give her away, and turned to him.

Jaffen’s hand slid onto her neck, his thumb stroking her skin. He dipped his head to kiss her and she wound her arms around his shoulders, pulling him against her body.

Responding to her aggressiveness, he nibbled on her lower lip, easing her back against the arm of the couch. She felt his hand move along her thigh, under her dress, and squeezed her eyes closed. He felt solid and warm against her and she pushed her breasts against his chest, parting her legs to let him lie between them.

His hand moved up to slide inside the low neck of her dress, cupping her breast through the bra, and she willed herself to relax. She felt his lips move downwards, over her throat, felt him push aside the bra so he could take her nipple in his mouth. He was hard, pressing between her legs, and she felt a warm rush of pure physical need shiver through her and wrapped her thighs around him.

“Kathryn,” he mumbled against her skin, and her eyes opened at the sound of the wrong voice.

Jaffen felt her stiffen and pulled slightly away to look at her. “What is it?” he whispered.

“I can’t do this,” she blurted. “I’m sorry.”

He sat up slowly and she tugged her clothing back into place, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, desperately.

“It’s all right,” he soothed her. “We were moving too fast. We can dial it back.”

“No,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “It’s not just that. I – I’m not ready to be with someone. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

“Kathryn…” He sighed. “I felt the same way when my wife left me. I thought I’d never get over her, but I did. I have. It just takes time.”

“Maybe,” she said softly. “But it’s been six months and I miss him all the time. It’s not fair to you, Jaffen.”

“I’m a patient man,” he offered.

Kathryn shook her head. “I can’t, Jaffen. I’m sorry.”

He looked at his hands, then back at her, nodding, trying to smile. “I’ll call you a cab.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything.”

=/\=

Seska had demanded a reduction in charges, claiming that her operation was merely the tip of the iceberg and that she could provide the FBI with information on a crime network that stretched across state lines. When he was briefed on the deal, Chakotay asked to be pulled out. But Seska claimed she didn’t know where most of the abducted children had been moved to once she and Suder had finished with them, and the Bureau wasn’t letting her out of its sight. So Chakotay was ordered to stay undercover. Armed with Seska’s information, he was to locate the missing children, identify the kingpins of the operation, and feed the intel back to Agent Bendera.

Over the next three months, he’d tracked down seven of the children and the Bureau had retrieved them and made a number of arrests. Word had spread through the forums and the ranks closed tight. Seska’s well of intel had run dry, and still Chakotay hadn’t managed to find the brains of the operation, or Josh Carey.

He was working all hours of the day and night, following leads, lurking in the chatrooms, trying subtly to pry information from Michael Jonas and the other men he’d met. He’d lost weight and he knew his hands shook – from stress, from too little sleep, from too many nights of drinking. He’d stopped boxing, could only run half the distance he used to, and hadn’t been able to meditate for months. His apartment was a mess.

One early morning, sitting at his kitchen table with reddened eyes, staring at his laptop, he realised that a meeting he’d been able to wangle an invitation to was located a few streets away from the house he and Kathryn had shared.

On autopilot, he showered and dressed in the nondescript pants and shirt that had become his uniform – his cover job was as a low-level government employee, nothing that could draw any attention – and took the bus to Bernal Heights.

He walked slowly through the morning fog, his gaze on his feet as he tried not to think. He told himself he was scouting the area, getting a feel for the location of the meeting that night. He knew he was lying.

He turned onto Lundys Lane, his heart thumping faster with every step. Was she at home? Would he see her? He knew he couldn’t contact her, couldn’t speak to her, but maybe if he could just see her –

He stopped a couple of houses away on the opposite side of the street, and looked. There was an overturned tricycle by the front door, a small pink helmet dangling from its handle. He frowned at it.

“Chakotay?”

He jerked around at the tentative sound of his name.

“It _is_ you,” the woman with the buggy said. “I was just taking Billy for a walk. I thought I recognised you.”

“Deanna,” he said involuntarily.

His former next-door neighbour smiled. “I haven’t seen you in far too long. Are you busy? Why don’t you come in for a coffee?”

She waved a hand toward her house and Chakotay noticed the small baby bump as she turned side-on. “You’re pregnant?” he asked, then blushed.

“Yes.” She smiled, smoothing a hand over the front of her dress. “Four months to go. Will is hoping for a little girl this time, but I insisted we keep it a surprise.” She looked him up and down, taking in his appearance, and he realised that her dark eyes were missing nothing – haggard face, unkempt hair, shaking hands and all. “How about that coffee?” she said firmly, and he realised it was less a question than an order.

He hesitated; it was a risk, and he certainly couldn’t blow his cover at this stage in the investigation… but really, who would know? He’d report it to Agent Bendera, of course, but the chances of any of the Bureau’s targets finding out were slim to none.

Deanna put a hand on his arm. “Come on,” she said, her tone decisive, and he nodded, following her into her house.

“Look who I found lurking outside,” she called to her husband as she dragged Chakotay into the kitchen.

Will’s eyes widened when he recognised him, and he pulled Chakotay into a brief but unexpected bear hug. “Love the beard,” he said approvingly. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” Chakotay lied. He glanced around their kitchen. Two year old Billy was throwing blocks out of the playpen in the corner as Deanna absently picked them up and tossed them back in. The far wall showed several patches of colour – paint samples, he realised – and the table was littered with parenting magazines and motorcycle parts; Will, he recalled, was an aficionado. It was a mess, but a different kind of mess to his own sad apartment. Chakotay felt envy and regret well up in a flood that tightened his throat.

“Do you see Kathryn often?” he asked before he could stifle the words.

Will and Deanna glanced at each other. “You didn’t know?” Deanna asked.

“Know what?”

“She isn’t living next door anymore,” she told him gently. “Your house is rented to a young couple with a three year old daughter. Kathryn moved back to Indiana months ago.”

It hurt like a fist to the chest. He had done this. He’d hurt her so badly that she’d left her dream job and the house they’d made a home, just so she could run as far away from him as possible.

“We talk on the phone occasionally,” Deanna continued, watching him, and he knew she hadn’t missed a thing. “She has a job teaching science at the local high school.”

“Is she…” He swallowed. “How is she?”

The couple shared another glance, and Deanna got up and picked up Billy. “I think it’s time for a diaper change,” she murmured and left the room.

“Let me guess,” Will said as he moved aside a newspaper and set a coffee in front of Chakotay. “You’re not exactly enjoying the life of a single man.”

Chakotay remembered the day he’d checked into the office and Agent Bendera had regretfully handed him Kathryn’s petition for divorce. He’d locked himself in his apartment with a three-day supply of scotch. It had been over a week before he could finally bring himself to sign it.

“Not exactly,” he muttered.

“So why aren’t you going after her?”

He shook his head. Even if he could explain it to Will, he knew now it was too late.

Will eyed him over his own coffee mug. “What the hell are you doing, man?” he asked, not unkindly. “What happened to you two? You were good together.”

Chakotay stared at the table.

“Take a look at yourself,” Will continued. “Frankly, you look like shit. And Dee would never betray Kathryn’s confidence, but I don’t mind telling you that your ex-wife isn’t doing so great either.”

Chakotay felt even worse.

“Get it together,” Will suggested, draining his mug. “Go sign up to AA or whatever you need to do,” he nodded at Chakotay’s sharp upward glance, “yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice your DTs. Figure out where you went wrong with Kathryn and go throw yourself at her feet. If you’re lucky, she might even forgive you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Part IV**

Kathryn flicked through the in-flight magazine for the third time without reading a thing, tucked it into the seat pocket and tried to close her eyes. Her fingers drummed nervously on the arm of her chair. In less than an hour, the plane would be landing in San Francisco.

She hadn’t wanted to go, but the principal had insisted on sending as many of his staff as possible to the teachers’ conference. The Education Department was paying for it, it was school vacation, and she hadn’t been able to come up with a plausible excuse for not attending.

“Are you all right?” Jaffen leaned in to speak quietly.

“Fine,” she said, sending him a quick smile.

She was pleased that they’d managed to hold onto their friendship in spite of that aborted fourth date. Things had been a little awkward at first, and she’d almost decided it would be better to avoid him, but in the end, he’d patiently pushed through her discomfort. And she was glad he was on this trip with her. Going home, as she still thought of the city where she’d lived most of her adult life, was going to be painful enough without a friend to lean on.

They landed at four pm local time and joined a few of their colleagues in a cab to the hotel the principal’s executive assistant had booked for them. Kathryn looked up at the sign and felt nausea rise. They’d been booked into the Mystic, where Chakotay had gone the night they broke up. “What are the chances?” she muttered.

“Kathryn?” Jaffen sent her a concerned look.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, squaring her shoulders to enter the hotel.

After she’d showered and changed into jeans, she knocked on Jaffen’s door; they’d planned an early dinner at a local soul food restaurant. They sat in a booth by the window at the café and shared their plates of food, and as they walked out to head back to their hotel, he slung an arm around her shoulders, telling her a long, complicated and very dirty joke to make her laugh.

She was still laughing when she glanced across the street and saw Chakotay.

For a moment she didn’t recognise him. His shoulders were slumped, his hair unkempt, several weeks’ worth of beard on his face. He looked thinner and more exhausted than she’d ever seen him. But then he looked directly into her eyes, and the last remnants of her smile died, her breath catching in her throat.

She stopped dead, and Jaffen’s arm slipped from her shoulders as he turned back to her in concern. “What is it?”

She glanced at him, then back across the street. The man she’d married, the man she still loved with every atom of her being, had turned his back and was moving quickly away.

She watched him for a minute longer, then turned back to Jaffen. “It was nothing,” she said, woodenly. “I just thought I saw someone I used to know.”

=/\=

Chakotay had taken Will’s pep talk to heart.

He’d taken up boxing again and started extending his runs, and was feeling a lot fitter. He was making an effort to eat more regular and healthy meals. He hadn’t touched alcohol for three months now, and although his first instinct when the stress grew too much was to reach for a bottle, he’d trained himself to employ some of his rusty meditation techniques instead. He was still too thin and he desperately needed a haircut, but the slovenly grooming fit with his cover, so he put up with it.

He’d also finally confessed to Agent Bendera just how badly he was handling going covert, and hadn’t objected when Kurt ordered him into counselling. His boss had wanted to pull him out immediately, but Chakotay refused. He was close to a breakthrough – he could feel it – and he didn’t want all of this to be for nothing.

“It’s hardly nothing,” Bendera pointed out. “We’ve rescued seven kids because of you, and stopped the abduction of countless others by arresting perps we’ve found thanks to your intel.”

“Josh Carey is still missing,” Chakotay answered bluntly. “I’m not stopping until I find him.”

Bendera sighed. “You have to accept the possibility that we _won’t_ find him.”

“No.” Chakotay stood, facing Bendera across his desk. “I’m not accepting that.”

Now, two months later, he was on a hot lead. A crony of Seska’s from San Jose was in town, staying at the Rex on Sutter Street, and Seska’s information suggested that this man was here to take possession of both video material and the children who appeared in it. Seska had no pictures of him, but she’d sat with a sketch artist to produce his likeness. Hogan had run his image through the database and identified him as Guillaume Camet, a French Canadian who’d emigrated to the States in his early twenties.

The Bureau had surveillance on the Rex already, but Chakotay couldn’t stop himself from taking a look. If his intel was right, Camet would be leaving the hotel tonight to inspect his contraband. Chakotay had every intention of being on the scene when the arrest went down.

He lingered in a diner near the Rex for a while, but when the waitress pointedly asked him if he’d like yet another pot of tea, he realised people were starting to notice his presence and moved on. He spent some time gazing into the window of an art gallery, watching the reflections of the street. He rounded the city block a couple of times, trying to stay alert. But it wasn’t until hunger had started gnawing at him that he finally sensed Camet was on the move.

Chakotay was pretty good at spotting agents on surveillance – it was partly his training, but partly his natural awareness – so when he noticed the same young couple he’d seen earlier walking hand-in-hand drifting toward him, he realised they were on the job. And if they were moving, then Camet must be as well. Idly stooping to tie his shoelace, he kept one eye on the entrance to the Rex.

It didn’t take long for Camet to appear.

Chakotay let him get half a block ahead, then trailed him casually, his cellphone in hand; if Camet sensed he was being watched, the chances were that his gaze would simply pass over a man with a phone to his ear. He watched as Camet paused at an upmarket Asian bar, studying the menu, then moved on, veering around the corner. Chakotay followed cautiously. There wasn’t as much obvious cover on the street Camet had turned down; he’d have to keep his distance.

Casually, head down, he ambled around the corner and glanced over at the soul food café Camet had stopped at. A couple were just coming out of the restaurant; the man had his arm around the woman’s shoulders, and she was looking up at him and laughing. Chakotay’s gaze flickered over them.

His feet took root in the sidewalk, his heart plummeting to join them. He sucked in a sharp breath, like he’d been sucker-punched in the stomach.

Kathryn.

As though he’d spoken her name aloud, she chose that very moment to glance his way. He watched her step falter, watched the smile fade from her face. For a moment they locked eyes across the city street, and then her – date? Boyfriend? _New husband?_ – spoke to her, and she looked away.

Camet forgotten, Chakotay turned tail and walked away as fast as his leaden legs would carry him.

=/\=

The house looked different.

Kathryn couldn’t quite put her finger on it. There were a couple of toys strewn on the front path, yes, and the garden looked a little unkempt. But the real difference was undefinable. She thought it had something to do with her perspective.

This was the house she’d bought when she was happy and in love and full of hope for the future. Looking at it now, she couldn’t imagine ever being that woman again.

Steeling her shoulders and averting her eyes, she made her way across the street and knocked lightly at the house next door.

“Kathryn! Are you kidding me?” Deanna enveloped her in a hug the moment she opened the door. “What are you doing here? When did you get here? Are you moving back? Oh, I’m sorry – come in!”

Kathryn couldn’t help smiling as she followed Deanna into her kitchen, dodging toy cars along the way. “Billy’s napping and Will’s at work, so we’ll be able to talk uninterrupted. Coffee?”

“I’d love some.” Kathryn sat on the chair Deanna indicated. “You look amazing,” she added sincerely.

“Please. I look like the side of a barn. The baby’s due in six weeks, and believe me, it can’t come soon enough.” She set Kathryn’s coffee before her and eased herself into a chair with a sigh, wrapping her hands around her own mug of hot chocolate.

They each took lingering, luscious sips, caught each other’s eye and started laughing.

“It’s so good to see you, Dee.” Kathryn reached across the table to clasp Deanna’s hand.

“You, too.” Deanna smiled. “How have you been?”

Kathryn’s smile faded.

“I see.” Deanna looked contemplatively into her mug for a moment. “I saw Chakotay a couple of months ago, you know.”

Kathryn felt herself go rigid. She put her cup down before her hands could start trembling.

“He looked terrible,” Deanna said frankly, meeting her gaze. “Have you spoken to him at all?”

“Not since the day he left,” Kathryn answered quietly.

“Are you here to see him?”

“No.” Kathryn rubbed her temple, feeling her headache gathering strength. “I’m here for a work conference. But, incidentally, I did see him last night, across the street from the restaurant where I was having dinner. As soon as he saw me, he took off in the opposite direction.”

“Oh.” Deanna looked troubled. “Look, Kathryn, I don’t know if it’s right for me to tell you this. It might not help at all. But he’s not over you.” She leaned toward Kathryn. “Don’t you think maybe you two should talk?”

“What is there to say?” Kathryn shrugged. “It was his decision to split up. I’m sure his reasons still stand.”

“Don’t you owe it to yourself to find out? If nothing else, you might get some closure.”

Kathryn bit her lip. Could she? She’d have to contact Chakotay’s boss, and if Chakotay was still undercover she might not be able to speak with him anyway. But to see him again… She sighed. Maybe it would only sharpen the pain, but maybe Deanna was right. And she knew she couldn’t go on like this. They’d been apart for almost as long as they’d been married, and she was no closer to getting over him.

One way or another, she had to move on.

“I’ll try,” she promised.

She left Deanna’s house an hour later and walked slowly down the street, thinking. She’d left the card with Agent Bendera’s number on it back in Indiana, but she could call the FBI office and ask to be put through. Or she could simply show up; it wasn’t that far from her hotel, and she had a free afternoon tomorrow.

She turned back for one last wistful look at her house, then lifted her chin and walked away, never noticing the dark-haired, blue-eyed man photographing her from the rented Prius halfway down the block.

=/\=

“We got him.”

Kurt Bendera sounded jubilant, and Chakotay clutched the phone harder. “You found Josh Carey?”

“Him, and three other kids between three and seven years of age. They’re with the medics now. And not only that – we arrested Camet in the act of trying to move them. He’s being processed and is scheduled for interview in an hour.”

Chakotay sat down hard at his kitchen table.

“Come on in, Agent Chakotay,” Bendera said. “Take the interview with me. You’ve earned it.”

“What about his accomplices? Have you identified them? Camet must have other local connections. And who’s been holding Josh and the other kids? Why didn’t Seska identify –”

“Chakotay, stop.” Bendera was half-laughing. “We don’t have all the answers yet. But you’ve more than done the job. It’s over. You can come home.”

“Understood,” he said, faintly. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Make it thirty. You might want to shave first.”

For the first time since Bendera’s call had come in, Chakotay found himself smiling.

_It’s over_ , he thought as he shaved, trying the words out to make them real.

He could go back to his life.

As that sunk in, he met his own eyes in the mirror.

What life?

All the things that had made his life rich, that had made him so happy, were gone. He’d let them go. He’d pushed them away.

Pushed _her_ away. Told her to go. And now she was happy with somebody else, and it was too late.

“Man up,” he told his reflection fiercely.

He switched off the electric shaver and turned to dress in the suit he’d last worn for work almost nine months ago. It was a little baggy on him, but it felt good. Right.

He tried to hold onto that feeling as he left his hated apartment for what he hoped would be the last time.

Camet was a tough subject. Chakotay and Bendera had been hammering him with questions for three hours and getting next to nowhere before they mutually agreed it was time for a break. Chakotay followed his boss into his office and eased himself into a chair.

“He’s too confident,” Bendera said abruptly when he’d poured coffee for both of them. “He thinks we have nothing on him.”

“You caught him red-handed,” Chakotay objected.

“Yeah. He’ll go down for that – no avoiding it. But there’s something big he’s not telling us, and he’s enjoying that a little too much.” Bendera hesitated. “We might need to press his connections. Can you think of anyone you’ve met who might know what he’s up to?”

_So much for leaving it all behind_ , Chakotay thought, but nodded. “Michael Jonas. He’s more connected than I’d realised at first. Always seems to have the inside track, and Seska trusted him. He’s never mentioned Camet, but I’d be surprised if he didn’t know him.”

“I hate to ask you this, but do you think he’d tell you anything if you went back under?”

“Maybe.” Chakotay shrugged. “He’s cagey, though. I might need to put some pressure on him, and that could mean blowing my cover.”

“You have my authority to use whatever means you deem appropriate.” Bendera stood. “Let’s give Camet a little incentive first. Maybe it’ll get you something to work with.”

=/\=

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Agent Bendera can’t be disturbed right now.”

Kathryn sighed. “Is there somewhere I can wait until he’s free to see me?”

The receptionist looked at her, assessing her openly. “I couldn’t tell you when that might be, ma’am. Is this a personal enquiry?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll have him call you as soon as he’s free,” the receptionist said firmly. “May I take down your contact number?”

“All right.” Kathryn conceded defeat and took the pen and paper the young woman handed to her.

Leaving the FBI building, she felt at a loss. She’d had no thought for this afternoon apart from talking to Agent Bendera and hopefully tracking down Chakotay. Sighing, she considered her options. She could go visit the lab, see Tuvok and her old colleagues, but considering that Tuvok had been disappointed with her when she’d so unceremoniously quit, that idea wasn’t particularly attractive. She could go shopping – no, she discarded that idea immediately.

She could go back and see Deanna again, and take one last look at her house. It wasn’t torture, she told herself. It was closure.

Kathryn boarded the first bus heading in the right direction, hopped off at 24th Street and walked the rest of the way.

“Twice in two days!” Deanna embraced her. “Come on in. You’ve just missed Will again – he got called into work.”

They took their coffee and hot chocolate out into the back garden and watched Billy scooting around the paving on a small red truck. It was warm in the afternoon sun. Kathryn slipped off her jacket, draping it over the back of her chair, and Deanna helped Billy strip out of his extra T-shirt.

“Did you get in touch with Chakotay?” Deanna asked after they’d made small talk for a little while.

“Not yet. I’ve left a message for him.”

“I think that’s a good thing.” Deanna patted her arm. “I have hope for you two.”

The doorbell rang and Deanna sighed, bracing herself on the arms of her chair. “God, I hate having to get up when I’m settled.”

“I’ll get it,” Kathryn offered. “Stay right there.”

She made her way back through the house and opened the door to a dark-haired, blue-eyed man. “Can I help you?”

The man smiled engagingly at her. “I’m a friend of Will Riker’s. Is he here?”

“No, but his wife is. Would you like to come out the back?”

“Thank you,” the man said, stepping in as she moved back.

Kathryn led him down the hallway.

“Deanna,” she said as they stepped out into the garden. “Will’s friend is here – I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

She turned back to the man.

“I didn’t,” Michael Jonas said, and pointed a gun at her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part V**

“Who is your local connection?”

Camet stared into mid-air, his mouth shut tight.

Bendera leaned across the interview table. “Your friend Seska already gave you up. We apprehended you in the process of taking possession of abducted minors and contraband material. Things really can’t get much worse for you, Guillaume. Why not make it easier on yourself? Give us a little, and we’ll take it into account.”

Finally, Camet’s head swung around and he looked directly at Chakotay. He smiled.

“You have something to say to me?” Chakotay asked gruffly. Bendera put a calming hand on his arm.

“Agent Chakotay,” Camet said in a silky, lightly-accented voice. “I’d heard so much about you. I’m afraid our mutual acquaintance isn’t your biggest fan, although I suspect that’s partly because he was rather ashamed of his own incompetence.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He had his suspicions about you for some time. Took to tracking your movements – he’s quite clever with computers, you know. And you were quite good – you only deviated from your script on one occasion. Unluckily for you, it was enough.”

Chakotay stared at him silently.

“My understanding of undercover work,” Camet went on, “is that the agent must cut all ties to his regular life. But you didn’t quite do that, did you?” He smiled. “You went to visit some old friends.”

_Will and Deanna_ , Chakotay thought, and then hard on the heels of that, _Billy_.

He stood up abruptly. “Interview suspended at fifteen forty-eight. Boss, a word?”

=/\=

“What do you want?”

Kathryn knew her voice was shaking, but she moved subtly in front of Deanna, shielding her with her body.

“Get the kid,” Jonas answered, his voice clipped.

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to shoot the pregnant bitch,” Jonas snapped. He stepped to the side, aiming the gun directly at Deanna, who’d risen from her seat at the outdoor table. Kathryn glanced over at her. Her dark eyes were huge with terror.

“All right.” Kathryn held up her hands in a pacifying gesture, then slowly backed over to Billy, bending down to pick him up. The little boy wound his arms around her neck. “Now what?” she addressed the man with the gun.

He waved it in the direction of the house. “Now we’re going to walk out the front door, and you’re all going to get in my van.”

Kathryn felt her stomach seize. “Where are you taking us?”

“Move it.” Jonas placed the gun against Deanna’s skull and took hold of her arm. “You first, Red. Don’t try anything stupid.” He tightened his grip on Deanna’s arm and she gasped in pain.

“Okay,” Kathryn said quickly. “Just don’t hurt her.”

She walked slowly through the house and out the front door. There was a white van parked at the kerb.

Jonas glanced up and down the street. “Open the side door and get in.”

She did as she was told.

The back of the van had no windows, and the rear compartment was separated from the driver’s cab by an opaque metal panel. There was a bench seat. It had no seat belts.

Deanna clambered awkwardly in after Kathryn.

“Take a seat.” Jonas indicated the bench.

“This isn’t safe for the child,” Kathryn protested. “There are no restraints.”

“That’s right,” Jonas answered. “So you’d better make sure you hold onto him. Any funny business and I’ll crash this van. And believe me, you’ll all come off worse than I will.” He held out a hand. “Give me your cellphone.”

Reluctantly, she reached into her jeans pocket and handed it to him. Jonas tossed it to the ground and smashed it with his boot heel, then shut and locked the door.

As they drove, Kathryn tried to keep track of all the turns, but there seemed to be so many, and she couldn’t see outside at all. She held on tight to Billy with one arm and clutched Deanna’s hand with the other.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Deanna whispered.

“We’ll be okay,” Kathryn lied. “Deanna, if you see a chance to escape, grab Billy and take it. Promise me.”

“What about you?”

“He’s not that big,” Kathryn said confidently. “I have self-defence training, and Chakotay taught me a few tricks. I’m pretty sure I could take him.”

“Kathryn, he has a _gun_.”

“Then I’ll just have to be careful.”

The van rolled to a stop, and their door slid open. “Get out,” Jonas ordered them, gun trained on Deanna.

They stepped out into an enormous, darkened room, empty but for a couple of vehicles and a stack of crates. _A warehouse_ , Kathryn surmised. She listened hard. She could hear the swish of traffic, but nothing that could pinpoint where they were. They’d been driving for close to an hour, but with all the twists and turns they could be anywhere from Hunters Point to the Embarcadero.

“That way.” Jonas waved the gun in the direction of a door on the far side of the warehouse. Kathryn watched him from the corner of her eye, wondering if she’d have a chance to take him by surprise. But although he appeared more relaxed since they’d entered the warehouse, he kept the gun trained pointedly on Deanna and his eyes never left Kathryn.

Deanna pushed open the door. Inside was what looked like a small studio, equipped with a kitchenette, a small lounge area and a corner filled with children’s toys. Kathryn stared at it.

“What is this place?”

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Jonas replied, ignoring her question. He sat on the couch, indicating Deanna should sit beside him. “We won’t have long to wait. You can put the boy over there.”

Kathryn let Billy down in the corner, kneeling beside him as he picked up a brightly-coloured musical toy.

Jonas pointed at an armchair. “Sit there, Kathryn.”

She stiffened. “How the hell do you know my name?”

Their captor’s smile widened. “Oh, you’d be surprised what I know about you, and your friend here. Deanna Riker, married to Will; those two were my first real clue. But you, Kathryn,” he grinned, “you were the missing piece of the puzzle.”

“What puzzle?”

Jonas settled back, hooking one ankle over the opposite knee and resting the gun on his thigh. “I made a friend, not so long ago,” he began. “Took me longer than it should have to realise he wasn’t exactly what he claimed to be.”

“And what was that?” Kathryn was getting mental whiplash from this man’s idea of conversation.

“We call ourselves child lovers.” He watched their incomprehension turn to horror. Deanna pressed a hand to her mouth, her gaze tracking to Billy. “I’m sure you know us by less pretty names, but your prejudices are not my problem. Anyway, my friend claimed he was one of us, but I got suspicious. So I started following him around. And one day, lo and behold, he led me to you.”

He waved the gun towards Deanna, and she shrank back.

“I couldn’t figure out how he’d know you – a nice middle-class couple like yourselves. Husband a lawyer, wife a counsellor – two of the professions we prefer to avoid. We like to fly under the radar, you see, and people like you and your husband tend to be a little too clued in.”

Jonas rested the gun on his thigh again. “At first I thought he was interested in your little boy there, but like I said, I was already suspicious of his behaviour. So I watched the two of you as well. And then yesterday, you showed up.”

He turned to face Kathryn this time. “You were easy to identify as well. Kathryn Janeway, teacher, resident of Bloomington, Indiana. Owner of the very house next door to Mrs Riker here. And then I did a little more digging. I found your marriage and divorce records – sorry to hear it didn’t work out for you, by the way.”

Kathryn pressed her lips together. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“Well, I was bored and curious. So I looked up your wedding notice and found the name of your photographer. Then I went to his website. He still has some of your pictures up there, you know. Handy for me, as it turns out.”

Jonas dug into his back pocket and held up a creased photo.

“Turns out,” he said with slow relish, “you were married to my so-called friend. Thanks to this photo, I got his real name. Which led me to discover that the man I knew as Charlie Miller is in fact one Special Agent Chakotay of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“What?” Deanna whispered, turning to stare at Kathryn.

A dozen things clicked into place for Kathryn, one by one.

_You don’t want children at all? Or you just don’t want them with me?_

The drinking. The secretiveness, the withdrawn behaviour.

_You need to choose. Either you stay with me or you let me go._

The ever-present laptop that he’d never let her look at. The undercover job he’d left her for.

_These people need me. You don’t know what’s at stake here._

“Oh, God,” she said, staring at the man who now held his gun trained on her. “He was investigating _you_.”

=/\=

As soon as he had Bendera, Hogan and Henley in a private room, Chakotay spoke fast. “Michael Jonas is the mutual acquaintance Camet referred to. He’s much higher up the food chain than I suspected. I don’t think even Seska knew how connected he is. I’m pretty sure he’s responsible for transporting the abductees.”

“Why’s that?”

“He works for a car hire company. He has access to all kinds of vehicles and would be able to use a different one every time he moves the children. He’s also extremely technically adept and knows how to obscure a paper trail.”

“Locate him,” Bendera ordered Henley. She nodded and picked up the phone to dial Jonas’ rental outlet.

“I’m concerned about why Camet is letting us in on this now,” Chakotay continued urgently. “He mentioned friends of mine. They used to be my next-door neighbours. They have a two year old son.”

“You think he and Jonas set something up to take the kid?”

“I’m sure of it. And the parents could be in danger too.”

Bendera tapped his chin. “if he’s telling us this now, he must be confident that Jonas won’t be caught.”

“He’s wrong,” Henley interrupted, hanging up the phone. “I have the make and plates of the car Jonas took from the hire place. White Ford Transit with no rear windows.” She pushed a piece of paper to Bendera, the plate number hastily scribbled on it. “I’ll start scanning traffic cams.”

“Hogan, help her out,” Bendera ordered. “Chakotay and I will check out the residence. Let’s move, people.”

The front door of the Riker house was ajar. Drawing their weapons, Bendera and Chakotay entered silently. Chakotay scouted upstairs while Bendera moved through the lower level.

“Clear,” Chakotay reported when they met back in the hallway.

Bendera nodded. “Looks like the lady of the house had company.” He gestured to the back garden. “Half-empty cups of coffee and hot chocolate. I’d also surmise they left in a hurry.”

Chakotay stepped onto the patio and took in the scene. A child’s ride-on truck was parked in the middle of the paved area and a tiny long-sleeved T-shirt lay on the table next to the half-empty mugs. A woman’s jacket was slung over the back of one of the chairs.

He _knew_ that jacket.

His feet carried him over to it as if his brain was unaware of the signals it was sending them. He picked up the jacket and pressed it to his face, inhaling.

Vanilla and roses and coffee.

His fists clenched on the jacket and he stared at Bendera. “Jonas has Kathryn,” he rasped.

=/\=

“Chakotay works for the FBI?” Deanna hissed in Kathryn’s ear as Jonas took a call on his cellphone.

Kathryn nodded.

“And he went undercover to bust a _paedophile ring?_ ”

“So it seems,” Kathryn muttered back. She hadn’t taken her eyes off their captor since he’d begun his story. She noticed that he was engrossed in his phone call and had lowered the gun a little.

She let her gaze flicker over to the door they’d entered through. She didn’t think Jonas had locked it, but she guessed that with his gun and his hostages, he was probably confident she wouldn’t try anything.

Jonas returned his phone to his pocket and she snapped her attention back to him.

“Change of plans,” he said abruptly, levelling the gun at Kathryn. “Get the kid. We’re moving.”

“Why?”

“Shut up and do as you’re told,” he snarled, his control slipping for the first time. Kathryn got slowly to her feet. She didn’t want to antagonise him, but if his plans were falling apart, she had every intention of taking advantage of whatever opportunity presented itself.

She picked Billy up, gathering a few of the toys he’d been playing with to ensure he’d stay compliant. Jonas waved the gun, motioning Deanna to open the door. They stepped out into the warehouse.

“Get in the Nissan,” he ordered, pointing to a blue van parked beside the white one they’d arrived in. Kathryn looked it over. It looked a few years older than the Transit, but just as impenetrable. She felt fear squeeze her insides.

Deanna climbed in first, holding her arms out for Billy. As Kathryn passed him up to her, Billy dropped one of his toys. She bent to retrieve it, and as she glanced sideways, she realised Jonas’ attention was on his phone.

Before she could second-guess herself, she shifted her centre of gravity and kicked out, catching Jonas hard on the side of the knee. He shouted in pain, clutching the injured knee and dropping to the ground. Kathryn scrambled to her feet and kicked at the hand holding the gun. It skittered under the van, and she launched herself at Jonas, hands scrabbling for his phone.

Too late, she realised she should have tried to knock him out first.

He dropped the phone, but only so that he could grab her by the throat with both hands. She gasped, trying to pry his fingers off her. He was trying to roll her over so he could pin her to the floor, but was hampered by his dislocated knee – she could hear him grunting in pain as they struggled.

Desperate, she shoved her knee between his legs and brought it upward into his groin as hard as she could. He yelled again, but his grip on her neck only slackened for a moment.

Kathryn’s ears were starting to sing, her vision tunnelling from lack of oxygen. She thought she saw movement to her left – _Deanna?_ – but she had to focus on Jonas, had to find a way to hurt him, had to _breathe_ …

=/\=

“We traced the van,” Henley said over the phone. “I’m patching the address to your GPS now.”

“Got it,” Bendera said a moment later. “Send backup and get the local police on it.”

“Hold up,” Henley said sharply. “We just logged a 911 call from that location.”

“Play it. I’m putting you on speaker.” Bendera slotted his phone into the dashboard holder.

_My name is Deanna Riker_ , came the shaky voice. _A man has kidnapped me and my son, and my friend Kathryn Janeway. I don’t know where we are. Oh, God, he’s killing her –_

The recording ended with the sound of Deanna’s screaming and the operator imploring her to stay on the line.

“How far out are we?” Chakotay’s jaw was clenched so tight Bendera was afraid he’d grind his teeth to powder.

“Thirty minutes, depending on traffic.” Bendera glanced over at him. “The cops will get there sooner.”

“Not soon enough.”

Bendera stepped on the accelerator.

=/\=

She felt her strength ebbing away. Her lungs burned and there was a roaring in her ears. She could barely hear Deanna screaming, Billy crying, Jonas shouting. Her fingers loosened on Jonas’ hands at her throat and she felt her arms go limp at her sides, felt Jonas flip her over. His face was inches from hers, his teeth bared, sweat beading at his temples.

Lights blurred her eyes, flashing red and blue, and she wasn’t sure if it was real or oxygen deprivation. She thought she could hear shouting, boots pounding on the floor. Dark shapes that looked like men swam across her vision.

She felt Jonas yank on her neck and slam her head against the concrete floor, once, twice, and then she knew no more.

=/\=

By the time Chakotay and Bendera squealed to a stop at the warehouse, it was all over.

Jonas sat cuffed and sullen under armed guard in the back of an ambulance, his left knee bandaged. The police had retrieved his gun from beneath the Nissan and had impounded both vans. Deanna huddled under a blanket in the back of another ambulance, Billy sleeping against her shoulder. Behind her, Kathryn sat on a stretcher with her back to the doors, one paramedic inspecting the wounds on the back of her head and another shining a penlight in her eyes.

Chakotay rocketed from Bendera’s car and skidded to a stop before the open doors of the ambulance.

“Are you both all right?” he asked Deanna quietly, not taking his eyes off Kathryn.

“We will be, as soon as Will gets here.”

He looked at her, his eyes full of guilt. “I’m so sorry, Dee. I should have never gone near your house while I was on the job.”

She shook her head. “It isn’t your fault, Chakotay.”

His gaze drifted back to Kathryn. “How is she?”

“The medics say she’ll be fine.” Something like a smile lit Deanna’s face. “You should have seen her. She was amazing.”

“She _is_ amazing.”

Deanna reached out to grasp his hand. “She thinks pretty highly of you too, Chakotay, despite everything. So go talk to her, and promise me you won’t fuck it up this time.”

He glanced at her in surprise and realised she was smiling.

“I promise,” he answered, then stepped up into the ambulance.

The paramedic with the penlight snapped it off. “Looks like you got off with a mild concussion,” he told his patient. “Must have a hard head.”

“You’re not the first person to offer that opinion,” she answered dryly.

“Kathryn?”

She stilled, eyes wide. “Chakotay,” she whispered.

Then he was kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his, looking up into her face as though he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

“I’ve missed you,” she choked out, and then she closed the distance between them, burying her face against his neck and exulting in the absolute rightness of his arms around her.

=/\=

“I think it needs to go over there.”

Chakotay leaned on the back of the couch and sent her an exasperated look. “Kathryn, I’ve already moved the couch three times. I’ve been carting boxes all day, I’m tired and hungry, and this couch is really heavy. Do you think we could fine-tune the interior decorating tomorrow?”

Kathryn put her hands on her hips and gave him that lopsided grin he never tired of. “I don’t know, Chakotay. I have plans for tomorrow, and they don’t involve moving furniture.”

He grinned back at her. “Far be it from me to interfere with said plans. I’d hate you to leave me standing at the altar.”

“Registry office, Chakotay.”

“Figure of speech, Kathryn.” He straightened up, faking a long-suffering sigh. “Where would you like this diabolically heavy couch moved to, ma’am?”

“Call me ma’am one more time and I’ll make you move it into the attic,” she retorted, then laughed. “Actually, never mind. It’s perfect just where it is.”

“Thank God,” Chakotay sighed theatrically, walking round the couch to slump down onto it. “Come over here.”

She went gladly, slipping onto the seat beside him and settling under his arm, her head on his shoulder. From their position they could watch the sun sinking into the San Francisco skyline. Chakotay pressed his mouth to the top of her head. “You’re right,” he murmured. “This is perfect.”

Kathryn sighed blissfully, pulling his other arm over her and closing her eyes.

She thought about how hard they’d worked to get to this moment. It wasn’t only the logistics – cutting short their tenants’ lease so they could take possession of their house again, quitting her job and moving all her belongings back from Indiana, organising it all around the crazy hours Chakotay had been working to wrap up the Jonas case. It was the other, less practical, more emotional things that they’d really thrown themselves into.

It was mostly on Chakotay’s side, she admitted. Jonas’ arrest had led to him singing like a bird, and the Bureau had made another four arrests based on his intel. Chakotay was required to stay on the case until it was finalised, but he’d asked for and been granted a transfer to the white collar crimes division after that. He’d made a commitment to her that he’d never take on another undercover job. And he’d kept up with his counselling sessions and gone to a few AA meetings. He hadn’t had a drink in almost six months now. He was fit again, and healthy, and most of all, he was happy.

As for her… She was happy, too. Tired of travelling across the country to transplant her life for the second time in the space of a year, yes, but she was about to marry – _re_ -marry – the love of her life, and she was back in the house she loved in the city that felt like home. As soon as they returned from their honeymoon, she was planning to take a few weeks off to potter around and figure out her next steps.

She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, career-wise. Tuvok had offered to take her back at the university lab; she was considering it, but she was reluctant to take on a job that meant long hours and weekend work again. There was something else she wanted more. She just had to figure out how to broach the subject with Chakotay. Their last discussions on it hadn’t gone well at all.

“Hey,” he murmured into her hair. “You tensed up. What’s going on?”

She hesitated. “Maybe it isn’t the right time to talk about this.”

Chakotay pulled back a little, turning her so he could see her face. “I thought we agreed on no more secrets.”

“We did,” she conceded, not meeting his eyes.

He tipped her chin up. “Then talk to me.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “This is hard, Chakotay. Every time we’ve talked about this, we’ve ended up fighting.”

She sat up, taking his hands in her own.

“It doesn’t have to happen right away,” she began, haltingly. “We still have time. But I need to know if this is somewhere we’re heading, or if I need to close the door on it.”

He stared at her, then comprehension dawned. “Kathryn,” he murmured, tugging her hands upward so he could press his lips to them, “are you telling me you want to have a baby with me?”

“Yes,” she said, finally meeting his gaze. He read the trepidation in her eyes. “Maybe even more than one.”

She was worrying at her lower lip with her teeth, waiting for his answer. He bent and kissed the abused flesh, the tip of his tongue soothing it. She parted her lips instinctively, letting him deepen the kiss, and he loosened his hands from hers so his could cup her face.

“So…” she drew back a little, swallowing, her cheeks flushed, “what do you think?”

Chakotay dipped his head again, this time grazing his lips over her cheekbone. “I think,” he murmured, his mouth moving down her throat as she tilted her head for him, “that would make me the happiest man alive.” He slipped his hands under her sweater, stroking up her ribcage as she sighed and pressed into his touch. “And I vote we start trying tonight.”

A wide, slow smile spread over her face. “I hate to ruin your party, but I’m still on birth control.”

“So we get a few practice runs in,” Chakotay whispered, easing her backward on the couch and pulling her hips against his. “What do you say?”

His mouth found its way to her nipple and she moaned.

“No time like the present,” she managed to agree, before her hands were pushing his shirt from his shoulders and her mouth was too busy tasting his to waste any more time on talking.


End file.
